


On the Rocks

by ReceiverofWisdom



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Gen, Tumblr Prompt, but they're buds, not a very major thing but gonna post it here anyway, not really a shipping thing, tess gives joel a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReceiverofWisdom/pseuds/ReceiverofWisdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gifts between co-workers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written anything major on here for TLOU. Since I was given a small tumblr prompt, figured I could post it here anyway.

“I got you a present.”  
  
It is the tone of her voice that causes Joel’s initial hesitation.  
  
“Ain’t my birthday.” He states plainly, with his brows oppressively scrunched. A glance is taken to the watered-down alcohol that rests in a mug on the table. When he reaches for it, Tess hooks her finger around the broken lip, and tugs it back towards her, leaning as she does so, which proves to be a passive dare for Joel to try for it again.  
  
“Doesn’t need to be. Our pull has been _pretty_ damn good lately. You deserve a little something.”  
  
He is non-plussed, but surprise makes its way into the creases of exhaustion that have weathered his expression into a sense of weary stubbornness over the course of the busy evening.   
  
“Curfew is in ten minutes.”  
  
Tess mulls his words into disbelief, and weighs her hands down against the tabletop. Her brow quirks, and a smile hitches up a corner of her lip, and Joel already knows he has unwillingly forfeit his plan to enjoy his watered-down-excuse-of-liquor On the Rocks that had melted moments after pouring the practically hot scotch.  
  
What a loss.  
  
“That’s the most bullshit excuse you’ve given me this week. Get a jacket and meet me out back.” She tips the mug up to her lips, and immediately sets it back down, clearing her throat in repulsion as she turns towards the back door, tugging it open, and glancing to ensure he wasn’t going to simply stand there and leave her wasting her time outside. “Put that stuff into a thermos and it’ll keep you warm out here.”  
  
\---  
  
He hears a short bark of laughter, quickly subdued, quickly stifled as he trudges out, thermos in hand, despite the jest that had been given to him over the quality of his beverage.  
  
If he went through the trouble of obtaining it, he was not about to waste it simply because of an absence of ice cubes.  
  
It steamed through the cracked hole in the mismatched lid, and when he sighed to emphasis how little his enthusiasm over the ordeal spanned, his breath stretched out into mist that Tess waved away, pressing her lips at his slight of antagonistic behaviour.  
  
Rain crept through the holes of the jacket and drenched his face and suddenly, the crime of the heated alcohol was forgiven to an amicable degree.  
  
“Mosey along, Texas. We’ve got distance to cover.”  
  
\---  
  
She limped at a determined pace, and in his effort to keep up with her, they made good time.  
  
Tess became irritable at his insistence over staying close to her, despite that being what she had urged him to do from the start of their journey.  
  
But had he been doing so a mere twenty minutes beforehand, the starved dog that clamped its jaws around the back of Tess’ leg would not have had the opportunity to bolt out and get as close as it did.  
  
The drama from the encounter left them scrambling for an entrance to a more deserted section of the city with armed guards an excessively stressful distance behind them. Various opportunities at cover, and the sheer grit of will from the female in the lead kept them from retreating back from the tension of being out in a precarious location after curfew.  
  
Tess confiscated his thermos, and catered to the last of it.  
  
Joel feared she was going to return it by throwing it at him if he made further comments over how bad the back of her leg looked.  
  
Tess was Tess, however. She tugged off the flannel she had beneath her heavier jacket, and tied it around the wound the moment they had peace from escaping the attention thrown upon them, and moved on, leaving Joel working to keep up.  
  
Too often, he was reminded of their own notoriety. It was easy to forget their capabilities with the day-to-day domestic banter that their public activities shaded. Too often, his reminders were unfortunate and concerning in their nature.  
  
“There.” She breathes, and in a moment of her weakness, burdens a charred and broken tree with her weight.   
  
So far beyond the Zone, the spot lights and dim buzzing voices of the militant occupants that wander the walls and slightly beyond do not nudge his anxiety when Tess turns on a light, rubs at the dirtied glass, and shines it on towards thick shrubbery.  
  
The way the tall and shielded bushes rustle in the wind, however, shoves an elbow into the side of his anxiety. He has difficulty out-running a Runner on a fair day, when necessary, and bushes were a formidable cover for Stalkers.  
  
Tess, as quickly as she pressed on, depleted her energy reserves, and is in no fit state to jeopardize the muscles in her leg further. He wonders how much blood she had lost yet.  
  
In the glow of the light, sweat sheens her skin where rain once had, and her lips have lost their colour,  but he does not push her over it.  
  
Giving the gift is clearly a matter of importance for her. Tess takes risks where she feels necessary.  
  
She rips the shrubbery aside, slightly out of breath, and when Joel moves to help her, she is compliant enough to allow it. After a layer, his hands scrape against cold glass, and it startles him into a pause, before he grapples for the torch light carried by his companion.  
  
He can see the smile she bears as she removes more of the branches, and when it is uncovered to her satisfaction, she leans against the hood, and spares a breath, looking considerably pained and considerably pleased with their journey’s result.  
  
“Where in the _hell_ did you find this?”  
  
“Bill rigged it up, brought it along with the last shipment.” She admits, with a shrug, her eyes following Joel as he wanders over to swipe grime from the window to peer inside.  
  
“Never thought it’d take the end of the world, and then some, for me to finally get a nice truck.”  
  
“I would tell you to climb on in and take it for a spin. But you’d probably attract every Clicker within a mile of here, and the Zoners.”  
  
Joel takes a step back, hangs his jaw for a moment, continuing to smooth some of the branches away. “Damn thing has an engine that works?”  
  
“Mmhm. Some fuel canisters up in the back there… makes for a great escape from here if it ever comes to that. Could also make the trip out here now and then just to sit in it and stare.”  
  
Joel scoffs, glancing appreciatively between Tess and the truck as he pops open the door. A few moments of scouring the inside, and he closes the door, settling the branches back over the vehicle to conceal it.  
  
While Tess leans down to inspect the damage of her leg, grunting as she does so, she throws a resilient smile towards Joel.  
  
“Check back towards the tailgate.”  
  
He gives her a look that suggests he is uncomfortable with the idea of receiving more after a formidable gift, but shortly after peering through bushes and reaching through them, he retreats his hand with several bottles of well-aged scotch, and feels his throat tighten while studying the labels.  
  
“ _Shit_. I don’t know what you gave Bill to convince him to give all this up and haul it over here, but It’s gonna take me years to find somethin’ for you that could compete with all this.”  
  
“You got me the head of that scumbag last week. Share one of those bottles with me when we get back and we’re even.”


End file.
